Grown Kids
There are times when I miss having little kids at home. I hate to admit just how much I loved being a mom of little kids. It was great when they depended
on me to guide, counsel or chastise. When they needed me to reassure them everything was going to be okay, when they needed a friend, a hot fudge sundae or just a hug from mom. The good ol' days.
Now, my children are adults.
Grown children are an entirely different story – you'd be surprised just how much they react and respond to things just like their younger selves, only now they have to 'prove' they're adult enough to handle what life throws at th
em. It's funny, most of the time.
I can almost predict what each child – er, excuse me, each adult child will do when presented with something they don't have a ready answer to.
Jane, my oldest, will complain, make wise cracks and solve the problem. My middle son will look to his big sister for guidance before making a decision, and the youngest … well, let's just say the youngest still has difficulty making the right choices.
Still, I'm grateful that they're all relatively happy, and still trying to live their lives to the fullest. What more can a mom ask for? Except grandchildren!
Time for Vacation!
One of my favorite parts of work is … when I don't have to do it, A.K.A. VACATION! Now, I know that a vacation with your coworkers does not sound like a vacation at all, but when you work with your family, you don't have much of a choice.
I'm not saying that a family vacation is work, but as I've blogged before, each member of the family has their strengths and weaknesses. So when it comes time to go on vacation, certain people should be in charge of the planning, and other people should not.
I'm usually in charge of the planning. I'm the one who decides where we go, where we stay, and what we eat. The men in the family are in charge of carrying the luggage. And if unforeseen circumstances arise, it is always good to
have them on call!
One vacation in particular comes to mind. It was 1991, and we were down in Florida. We were just settling into the hotel room. There was a little kitchenette in the corner, and Tommy went over and turned on the faucet. Suddenly, water started shooting out of the pipe from under the sink! Tommy started yelling at the top of his lungs, and before we knew it, we were all standing in an inch of water. The Rizzolis did not miss a beat. Before I could call the front desk, Tommy ran to get a bucket. Frank and his father wrapped a
towel around the leaking joint. And Jane followed the pipe to the main valve and shut it off. Whew! Those were a long five minutes, but the Rizzolis rallied, as usual. Our hotel could not have dreamed of better
guests!
My Identity
Who am I? How did I get here? How many times have you asked yourself those questions? How many times has a life-altering event changed everything you know about yourself?
Hopefully, not many, but for the events that shake everything up, you've got to put your big girl panties on. And wear a belt – don't want 'em to fall down during a crisis.
I see myself in the mirror every day … see what time has placed on my face, and I'm not scar
ed – okay, I'm a
little fearful about what's ahead, but I know who I am. I'm tough – I gave birth to three kids with no drugs, this I know. I'm capable, on most days confident, and I like to look on the bright side of things.
That's not so bad, right?
So, when I start asking myself those pesky little questions about how I got here, who am I …
? I just tell myself, I'm here because I want to be here, and that's okay.
Cold Cuts
If you are an organic health nut, you might want to skip this installment of “Buon Appetito” (Dr. Isles, if you are reading this, that includes you). This blog entry is all about Italian deli cold cuts, and if you don't like cold cuts or think they're bad for you, well then – save it! (Everything in moderation I always say. Besides, what good is life if you can't have a slice of salami once in a while?) Now, besides being delicious, cold cuts have a very special place in my heart because I've eaten them at nearly every important event in my life – whether it was a wedding, a birthday, an anniversary, a holiday … you get the point. In fact, after I gave birth to Jane, I was lying in the hospital bed and the only thing I could think about was a “Joe DiMaggio” sandwich (cotechini, hard salami, hot capicola, and provolone) from the Mona Lisa Deli. So that's what my ex-husband went out and got me and
I ate – while he held Jane!
Welcome to "Angela's Café & Crime Blog"! My name is Angela Rizzoli, and I work at the Division 1 Café, located in the lobby of the Boston Police Department headquarters. I am a recent divorceé and the proud mother of three: Detective Jane Rizzoli, Officer Frankie Rizzoli, and Tommy Rizzoli.
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